Et puis tu es venue par l’aube douce

What a charmingly tender poem this is from Leopold Senghor, the former President of Senegal. From the title which evokes the impossibly glamorous and beautiful image of a blond-haired black woman, through the moment of togetherness in the early morning to the final exclamation, repeated three times, of the poet’s love, this is a captivating expression of two lovers in harmony.
A la négresse blonde

Et puis tu es venue par l’aube douce,
Parée de tes yeux de prés verts
Que jonchent l’or et les feuilles d’automne.
Tu as pris ma tête
Dans tes mains délicates de fée,
Tu m’as embrassé sur le front
Et je me suis reposé au creux
De ton épaule,
Mon amie, mon amie, ô mon amie !

The first word of the first line hints at something that has gone before, that this moment is a consequence of some unstated situation or turn of events, adding to the mystery and glamour of the scene. It is dawn, and the lover arrives, flashing her green eyes, for an even greater exotic impact, offset by the yellow leaves of autumn. The girl taks hold of the poets head with delicate hands and gently kisses him on the forehead as he leans into her, cradling his head in the hollow of her shoulder. Delicate, gentle, tender, loving, this is clearly a special moment, leading to the rhapsodic exclamations of the last line, as the poet proclaims his love three times.

Lucky fellow

The Poetry Dude


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